Manipulative
by Prinzivalli
Summary: It's a new game, now. The original bodies kept and re-used, the Administrator looks for new people to occupy these bodies, to participate in a deadly tournament. Read as the new Scout, Soldier, and Heavy, fight their way through the world of Team Fortress
1. Chapter 1  The Scout

Manipulative -TF2 Fanfic

Chapter 1: The Scout

My body feels cold. I was told that my new body would be stiff, but Christ, it's like I can't move.

_ It all_ _started when I was caught in a school shooting. I ended up chasing this dumbass from the senior hall all the way to the front office. I was going to graduate in four days and I was NOT going to deal with him any longer. Put a bullet in his ass and he tucked tail and ran. I was searching the front courtyard for the little bugger when I saw the red and blue lights. No way I was going to stay there, so I hid the gun in some bushes and started to walk away from the school. That's when it hit me. A bat, that it. Aluminum. Large, muscular hands lifted my body, cringing and spasming in pain, and placed it in the back seat of a fancy black car. Tinted windows. When the pain was bearable enough to see straight, I noticed the old hag in the front passenger seat, smoking what looked like a cheap, trashy cigarette. Her lungs should have been made of tar from smoking those, but her voice was surprisingly clear when she spoke._  
><em>"Welcome."<em>  
><em>"Huh?" I needed an explanation.<em>  
><em>"The police are after you, and by now, so are your school officials. I'm saving you from an... unsavory situation."<em>  
><em>"Uh huh?" At this point, I was sitting up, interested in what she was saying.<em>  
><em>"In return for your rescue, you can work for me."<em>  
><em>"Anything to keep me out of jail, ma'am." I was sure she just meant useless busywork at that point.<em>  
><em><br>_  
><em>Boy, I was wrong.<em>  
><em>"Good. Welcome to Reliable Excavation and Demolition."<em>

The new body was part of the WAR's trick of the trade. I call it the WAR, because nobody seems to know what it is about. The body, according to my contract, is "experimental," and that if my new squad ever lost, what exactly we'd be losing hasn't been explained yet, we would be dejected and the bodies would be taken away. Considering that this job pays $50,000 a month, I need to keep this new body.  
>So here I am, cold, motionless, when I hear a voice in the back of my head.<br>**Meet your new team in 3...2...1...**


	2. Chapter 2  The Soldier

Chapter 2 – The Soldier

Two tours in Afghanistan, forty-three guns, and about one hundred and twenty-nine thousanf bullets fired could not have prepared me for this. Why can't I move? Where are my senses? I can't smell, see, or feel my body.

_My newest mission seemed very... unsettling when it was given to me. To drop into an insurgent filled area to assassinate one of their leaders __**alone? **__Something just wasn't right, especially the first time I heard it. My commanding officer's voice seemed a tone or so off, but I thought it was just because he was smoking, which wasn't something he normally did. _

_ But since he was my commanding officer, I did as I was told and was in the insurgent headquarters by o-nine hundred. I was stopped at the door of the Muslim styled palace to be searched for weapons, but my friends at the camp made sure that all of my weaponry was well hidden. Two M1911's served as my side-arms, hidden in my coat, and a package of napalm C4 was what was going to rid the world of these demonic assailants. As I made my way to my target, a bathroom directly below the main conference room, I took a few seconds to think about what I was about to do. Kill hundreds, and save millions. It was a great deal. And my divine punisher was right here with me, strapped onto my back, ready for placement. It was like me, in a way. A soldier, to be dropped into the home of terrorism, who will destroy the eternally damned. _

_ And I will do just that. I placed my holy weapon on a wall in one of the stalls, and left the building in a hurry, dodging questions from peons intrigued with my sudden urgency. I ended up in a small coffee shop six blocks away, ready to watch God's wrath unleashed upon these demons. I pressed the trigger for the C4 ever so gently, treasuring the moment and..._

_**CRASH!**_

_"EVERYBODY PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR! THIS IS THE C.I.A!"_

_I was stunned by the sudden entry of black suit clad men, but not too stunned to squeeze the trigger. Never to stunned to enact a blow from God. One of the three suits pointed at me._

_ "You! Hands in the air! Into the car, or we shoot!"_

_I had no choice but to allow myself to by grabbed and transported by the men. My vision went dark as they shoved a wet rag into my face. Chloroform, of course. I remember laughing like a madman as my body went numb and my mind dark._

_ "How many innocents do you think you've just killed?" a cold female voice asked. "How many lives have you unjustly taken, mister Brooks?" I regained control of my body, only to realize that I was strapped to the seat of the car. My wrists were bound behind my back._

_ "Do you mind telling me just what the hell is going on?"_

_ "Don't speak like that to your superiors, you worm. To put it simply, my dim witted friend, you are now a terrorist."_

_ "WHAT?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "That can't be! I've spent my entire life, no, my entire __**soul **__ to eradicating terrorist slime! I AM NOT A TERRORIST," I commanded._

_ "Tell that to the Afghan __**innocents **__you just... eradicated," she spat._

_ "THEY WERE A THREAT TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA."_

_ "They were merchants, Brooks. And their wives and children." I was struck silent. "Now listen, because I have a proposition for you. Work for me, do well, and I'll make sure this never happened. Nobody will know of your __**sin. **__You will return to your country as if you had never left your base this morning."_

_ "I refuse. I will take responsibility for my actions."_

_ "And face a death sentence? Never see your wife or children again?" I thought her deal over once more. My family was the only reason I was in this war anyway. I need them. They need me. "Do we have a deal, mister Brooks?" I nodded lightly, shamed by what I was about to do._

_ "Good. Welcome to Reliable Excavation and Demolitions."_

Author's Note:

Hey guys. I didn't make one of these last time because I really just wanted to see a reaction to my story. Wasn't much. So I just wanted to mention this time that I'd love some reviews, and to explain some minor/major details that some people might miss.

Basically, this story takes place after the original war, and that all of the original characters are gone. Now the Announcer keeps her little game going by making tournaments throughout the TF world, where people take on the bodies of the old characters, are grouped into many teams that will fight across all of the different maps. The losers will be killed off while the winners will have a special privilege. They will get to choose whether or not to fight in another tournament or go home to their families. This is where the story starts. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3 The Heavy

**Author's Note: **HAHA! Finally figured out how to make a note! :D Anyways, I had to stop writing because, coincidentally, the hard drive I had my story on crashed, and frankly, I don't feel like retrieving it. So every chapter, from now on, WILL BE HAND WRITTEN AND UNEDITED! :D But yes, review me! Tell me that you like my Ita-Heavy!

Chaper 3: The Heavy

"_You gonna eat that stromboli, fra?_

_ Why yes, my fat brother. I am. To alert my brother of this, I took a much too large bite from the sandwich, swallowed, and suckled the pepperoni juices from my fingers. "Oh come on, fratello. I'm starvin' over here!"_

_ "You've had three. That was my first, deal with it."_

_ "One day, fra."_

_ "Che palle?"_

_ "Che palle." Alright. Our dinner is finished, now for him to tell me why I'm really here. "What's the dish?"_

_ "Pasta. A light sauce. You're a meatball, and you're gonna sprinkle some cheese on the dish. I read it on a blank receipt. Got it, fra?" He snapped his fingers._

_ It didn't take long for me to comprehend his statement. It was scare tactics. He was told by an unknown associate to light up a nightclub a few blocks down, a make it a little messy, but he was passing it down to me.\_

_ "Price check?" He leaned in close._

_ "Cinquecentomila dollari," he whispered, smiling mischievously. My eyes went wide. My jaw dropped. Five hundred thousand dollars! I couldn't resist this offer, especially for such an easy task. I held out my hand for him to shake it._

_ "Cenare in un inferno?"_

_ "Cenare in un inferno."_

_And dine in hell I did._

_ It didn't take long for me to realize I was being set up. First off, the nightclub parking lot was empty. Second, there were no lights on. It was almost obvious._

_ And see, I'm a fucking mafioso. I don't get baited. No matter who's in here, I'm lightin' them up. _Il formaggio sara svizzero, I miei amici.

_ So I walked up to the dank, dirty nightclub doors, kicked them in, and guess what._

_I lit the place up._

_ After a nice thorough spray of tommygun bullets, I tossed in a few hand made nail grenades for good measure, and took a moment to piss on the carpet. Amidst the wreckage, a single seat at the bar, occupied by a single smoking old hag, remained. I decided to take a seat next to her, taking note of her admirable calm in the hellish wreck I had made of the club._

_ "Any sudden movements and we shoot." All admiration I just had got flushed down the toilet by that comment. My face took on a nervous look, but I quickly replaced it with my usual confident expression. "Mister Moretti, I have here very detailed and revealing evidence about your little... organization. If you don't do exactly what I say, when I say it, I will take the entire Moretti family down. Every single one of you will spend the rest of your lives in a maximum security prison; now you don't want that, do you?" I stayed silent, dumbstruck. I looked at the large folder she had been keeping in her lap. It was labeled _Bibiano Moretti._ Why this hag would have all that information on me, I will never know, but there wasn't much I could do at this point. "Are you willing to cooperate, mister Moretti?" I nodded my head. _

_ "Good. Welcome to Reliable Excavation and Demolition."_


	4. Chapter 4 Meeting The Team

**Author's Note: **Hey guys, Prinz again. I read over my last few chapters a couple times and I was all like, "WDF? That's not what I said!" And then I realized. I wasn't putting enough detail into the story, so it didn't paint the pictures I had in my mind. So for this chapter and the next one, I was trying really hard to help people get immersed into the feel of the respawn room and such. Thanks for reading!

* * *

><p>Chapter : Meeting The Team<p>

* * *

><p><span>Scout<span>

On the Administrator's count, the blackness around me went white, blindingly white. I could feel the nerves in my body starting to become active, returning feeling and movement to my body, cell by cell. And as if my body had teleported, no, rematerialized, I was in a suddenly different setting. The floor was an amazingly smooth, white tile, and the walls were nicely polished red wood, likely oak. I could have gaped at the cleanliness forever, as it was much different than my orn home, if I had not looked around me and seen the other people.

Even though we were all wearing the same color, red, we were a very diverse group of people. I would have been surprised, at the very least, had I not read my contract and known the appearances of each class. Closest to me was the large, bear-like Heavy, and the aged, thin Medic. Most, including me, had a look of confusion and awe on their faces, wondering of the magic behind our apparition. All except for the Demoman, standing in the back, looking stern. Experienced, even.

**"Your first mission begins in two hours. Become... Acquainted."**

Soldier

In all of Hell's names, I have never seen anything like what has happened in this room today. People, like stars, just appearing out of nowhere! But that is for another time, I suppose. I have two hours to become familiar with the terrain, and to organize this team. I take my missions seriously. As the diverse group around me walked out of the sparkling spawn room, I noticed a large locker with a red cross on it. Curious, I opened it and found what seemed to be an endless supply of medicine and ammunition. Nine large boxes were inside, each with a label. I removed the one labeled "Soldier" and opened it, the rest of the team, except the Demoman, watching me. Inside were many parts of weapons, a shovel, and an instruction manual. On top was a note labeled "The RED Team." I read it aloud.

"RED Team. Congratulations, and welcome to the Team Fortress Arena! You are participating in a tournament designed for the best and worse of field combat." The Scout blushed at the word 'worst,' so I made a mental note to spend some personal training time with him later. "Your goal changes based on the arena we place you in each week. Rounds will last as long as needed, from mere hours to days. You will find all the supplies you need in the same locker you found this crate in. The tournament operates in a way similar to most of your native sports. There is a preseason, a post season, and a playoffs. Beware, though. You all will die, many times. Our coveted respawn system will in a timely manner. If you feel this as unable to bear, irresponsible, or un-required, please commit suicide now, because it is not on." This statement illicited a deep shiver in the spines of most of the group, except of course for the Demoman. Why was this man so solid? Is he soulless? I decided to continue instead of worry about him for longer, though. "In all teams as yours is only one of many, is a tourney veteran. In your case, this is your Demoman. And that explained much. The entire team turned to stare at him. He simply smirked.

"Go on," he urged.

"He has been a player for ten years, the longest of the entire tournament. It'd be wise to do as he advises. Otherwise, the Soldier is your official team leader." I smiled and looked up at the team. This note confirmed what I had read in my contract. And all but the Demoman and Heavy smiled back to me.

Heavy

This man is not "leading" me anywhere. I only follow the boss. My family. My capo. Just the thought of being led by anyone other than my family angered me. I took my box of weapons from the locker in front of us and left the room, everyone staring at me with mouths agape. All except for the Demoman, who had obviously heard all of this before, who decided to take his box and follow me out. I noticed that our boxes were significantly bigger than the rest. Mine specifically weighed about 160 kilograms. Carrying it easily with this new body, I found a nice little dark corner of this building called "Teufort" to open it. Gently, I peeled off tape and staples to view it's contents.

_**E il mio dio, erano belli.**_


End file.
